"the sleep yet to be ours"

Breakfast came early: 4:30am to be exact, both boys inexplicably awake. I settled one on the bed and sat the other one in front of a show. This hour is why Netflix and tablets were invented. From the kitchen downstairs I grabbed a bowl of my favorite fig & date Greek yogurt, and a limp and damp croissant from a crinkly bag. Coffee would have to wait. I went back upstairs to my childhood bedroom, demure and sedate now without the images of Madonna wallpapered on every inch of wall. Now the room where both my boys were awake and where we would greet the early morning sun together, the cumulation of so many dreams I didn't know then I had, not until I held them in my arms. The sun rose. Silas toddled downstairs with his grand-maman, I picked up Cash and together we went back to bed. There was more sweet sleep yet to be ours.